Incarceration
by Punisher Ops
Summary: To the surprise of NYPD, Frank readily surrenders to them – appearing a broken man. Little do they know it is Frank's clever plan to infiltrate the prison to find/kill a criminal mastermind running a powerful syndicate from behind bars.
1. Chapter 1

Incarceration

Punisher

1

NYPD HQ

Frank entered police headquarters with no weapons of any kind. He did wear his black trench coat/combat fatigues. The coat concealed his torso white skull until it was time to unveil it. Ironic as it seemed, they would likely recognize him more readily via the skull symbol then they would his own face.

So much for needing to wear a mask...

He walked right up to the main police desk at the main HQ in Manhattan.

The cantankerous fat officer manning the desk didn't even make eye contact with the infamous vigilante that had lit the entire world afire. Rather, his eyes were glued to the stack of papers before him on the desk.

"What do you want?" said the officer as both a greeting and a demand to cut to the chase.

"I'm here to surrender myself into your custody," Frank said honestly.

The cop chuckled, though not in amusement. He still didn't make any eye contact with the Punisher.

"Keep that crap up and I will have you locked up, pal. Get out of here."

Exhaling, Frank slammed his hand on the desk.

This caused the fat cop to jump back in alarm. "Jesus!"

"It's _me_ – you donut-stuffing swine!"

At that, he revealed the white skull to the old cop. The cop's eyes widened. For a second, Frank thought he might have a coronary in the chair. Other cops behind the fat cop looked over in growing concern. They too saw the white skull...

In mere moments, a dozen officers surrounded Frank with weapons aimed at him. Nearly in unison, they shouted, "Freeze!"

Frank knew the drill; he placed his hands behind his head, went to his knees, and crossed his ankles.

The cops hesitated to approach him – knowing full well what he was capable of.

"Come on, assholes – do it!"

His ironic command shook them out of their fear and they frisked him, arrested him, and then processed him like any other criminal.

To date, Punisher had killed nearly a thousand criminals of all kinds around the globe.

The cops had tried to keep a lid on his capture, but it was impossible. Frank Castle's existence was simply too high profile to keep secret. By the eleven o'clock news that same evening, word had gotten out – Punisher had been captured at long last. What did remain fuzzy was _how_ Punisher had been captured. NYPD wanted to spin it in such a way to make it look as though they had finally outwitted the cunning vigilante when that was obviously bogus.

Frank didn't care. This was all part of his plan, and it would be from within the walls of NY Penitentiary that he would hunt down a brilliant criminal boss running a mob from his own cell. It was perhaps the ultimate criminal irony, but Frank had found enough info to figure this guy was the real deal, and so was his crime op setup.

And when Frank found him it was going to be two in the chest and one in the head.


	2. Chapter 2

2

City of New York Penitentiary

"Did you hear, boss?" said the henchman Bowman.

Ankles crossed atop his expensive oaken desk, criminal mastermind Ramirez Sloan continued to read the city newspaper from inside his comfortable cell.

"I heard. And?"

"It doesn't bother you at all that _the_ Punisher's been locked up with us?"

Sloan lowered the newspaper. "What're you getting at?"

"He's always managed to avoid capture...and it just now happens that he gets nailed by the pigs at the very height of our criminal success... It doesn't add up."

Sloan shrugged. "Word is that Castle finally lost his damn mind. Makes sense."

"How so?"

"He loses his family to the mob and kills a ton of us so-called bad guys – but newsflash – it isn't going to bring them back, is it? They're still dead, gone, and buried and he's still pissed at the criminals. But he still has nothing to show for it, does he? You see, Bowman, no matter how many of us that he wipes out there will always be another to take our place. Many use that 'cut the head off the snake' saying when referring to us bad guys, but that saying's inaccurate. We're more like a worm – we keep growing back despite being cut off or removed. That's what Mr. P doesn't get, and never will. So even in the end, criminality still wins."

"I never thought of it that way before, boss."

"That's why I'm the boss and you're not."

"True, boss, but you still don't find it even a little odd that he just happens to come in here right when your ingenious behind bars operation is at its peak?"

"What can he do, Bowman, even if that were true? He's on the other side of the prison – and in solitary. He couldn't reach us if he wanted to."

"Why solitary?"

"Oh, I don't know – maybe it's just the fact that maybe ninety percent of all lousy thugs in this joint have a beef with that vigilante bastard for one reason or another – the ones still breathing that is."

"True, boss, but I think we should take him out right away now that he's in here with us. He can't run and hide like he always does out there."

"Castle doesn't run or hide from anything, Bow. Do you even know anything about his background?"

"He was a super soldier for Uncle Sam or something, wasn't he?"

"He was a commando, dumbass. Point is he never stopped being one – thinking like one. To him we're all just targets to be neutralized."

"That's why we should kill him now, boss."

"Oh, I intend to, but not just yet. When I do, I want the world to know that it was me that did it. Think of it, Bow – I'll have not only killed the Punisher but also managed the largest crime operation in history – all done from behind bars. Imagine what that will do to my reputation."

"It'll make it soar."

"That's right." Sloan set his feet to the floor and folded the paper. "It will give me power and prestige like no crime lord ever had in history. Soon I'll even have world leaders working for me."

"I like the sound of that, boss. So, what should we do about Castle?"

Sloan let creative sadistic thoughts enter his mind. With most of the prison staff under his criminal control the sky was the limit. And in case the bribes failed...killing their loved ones always worked too.

"I think some good old fashioned Russian roulette is in order. Let's see how tough these other lousy thugs are against Castle with a revolver pointed at their damned heads."

"Won't that confirm to Castle that your operation really exists though?"

"Does it matter?"

"Suppose not..."

"Then make it happen."

"Yes, sir."

XXX

Frank was brought by the prison guards to an interrogation room. He didn't know what for, but he'd prepared for anything, given what he believed was taking place in this corrupt super prison. And like the many thugs that he'd put in here, he too was clad in the infamous orange jumpsuit, wrists and ankles fettered. And in the many hours he'd been in solitary, he'd meditated and exercised. He would do so for as long as needed to complete his mission here.

They seated him in a chair and removed his restraints. He cooperated fully.

Another thug was brought in and seated across from him. Frank recognized the thug immediately. He went by the name Musashi, apparently trying to identify with the famous samurai – which Frank thought was utter bullshit.

Musashi stared at Frank with a burning hatred; Frank mirrored it.

The guards drew their weapons but held them low. One raised a certain modified .44, checked to make sure there was only one round in the cylinder before spinning it and then securing it into place. The guard then set the revolver atop the table's center and stepped back.

Frank recognized the customized revolver – it was one confiscated from a past armory of his.

Musashi reached forward to take the revolver but the guards aimed their guns at him. He stopped, puzzled.

"Castle's first," said a guard.

Musashi paused at this, thought on it, then smiled and chuckled, warming to the idea.

Frank calmly reached for the gun – the guards shifted their aim for him – pausing him for a moment. He then pulled the hammer back, set the muzzle against the side of his head, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

As the hammer slammed down on an empty cylinder, everyone jumped a little – except Frank. He returned the gun to the table's center.

He smiled at Musashi. "Your turn, Musashi."

Musashi's confidence evaporated, and he perspired with growing intensity. He looked at the guards. "This – this isn't necessary, guys. It's Castle, man. Just let me kill the bastard right here for you..."

A guard said, "Pick up the gun, Musashi, or we'll do it for you."

Musashi reached for the gun with a shaking hand. He finally gripped the weapon and slowly set the muzzle against the side of his head.

He closed his eyes and squeezed the trigger...

"You might want to pull the hammer back first, Einstein," said Frank, still smiling.

Musashi growled. "You bastard."

"Now, scumbag," said the guard. "We haven't got all day."

"That's right – we're on taxpayer time here, or is that mob time too?" said Frank.

A guard pointed at Frank. "That's enough BS from you, Castle. Don't play smartass with us."

"Better than playing a dumb one."

"Enough," said a guard. "Musashi – now!"

Sobbing, Musashi complied. He pulled the hammer back and pulled the trigger...

Click.

Musashi gasped, turned to the side, and vomited.

"Hey! Don't get puke on my lovely prison shoes," said Frank.

"Do you think this is funny, Castle?" said a guard.

"Hilarious, in fact."

"Good." The guard firmly planted the revolver before Frank. "Because it's your turn again, Mr. P."

Frank scoffed. "Cool beans."

Like before, Frank smoothly reached for the handgun, set the muzzle against his head, pulled the hammer back, and pulled the trigger - again, all without hesitation.

Click.

"Oh, god, no," screamed Musashi. "God, no!"

"Your turn, scumbag," said a guard, setting the handgun before Musashi.

A leg violently shaking in terror, Musashi pissed himself.

Frank nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. "This just reinforces what I've thought about you thugs all along – you're all cowards."

"Screw you, Castle!" Musashi screamed at him.

"You're not my type."

With clenched teeth, a dirty guard set his gun against Musashi's head. "Pick up the goddamn gun or I'm going to do it for you."

"If you pick up the gun at least you have a chance, Musashi," said Frank.

The guard put the confiscated Punisher gun into Musashi's hand, set its muzzle against Musashi's head, and pulled the hammer back...

Musashi panicked and rapidly shook his head. "Stop! Please. I'll do anything you want. Anything..."

The guard pulled the trigger instead...

The gun fired, its sole bullet entered Musashi's head, exited, impacted the nearby wall, followed by spraying gore adorning it immediately thereafter. Musashi's upper body slumped forward and his head hit the table. Fresh blood pooled out from the bullet holes.

Frank nodded with approval as he looked at Musashi's freshly made corpse status. "Thanks for that, gentlemen. That's one less murdering asshole for the city to worry about now."

"You're a cold crazy bastard, Castle, you know that?"

They had him stand and wrist/ankle fettered him again for the return to his cell.

"Thanks," said Castle. "And be sure to remember that – all of you – because soon enough, you're all going to be joining Mr. Musashi here – along with the 'boss' really running things around here."

"Get him out of here," said a guard.

With his two escorts, Frank was returned to solitary confinement without incident.

Once his cell door was locked, Frank sat cross-legged upon the floor, bowed his head, closed his eyes, and resumed his battle meditation – contemplating the many ways he could kill the criminal mastermind running things here in NYC's largest prison.


End file.
